A panegyrick upon His Majesties glorious return from the wars, after the conclusion of a general peace. By Joseph Brown, Dr. of physick and the civil laws Browne, Joseph, fl. 1700-1721. 1697 Approx. 24 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 12 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A77651 Wing B5044 ESTC R229482 99895286 99895286 152579 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A77651) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 152579) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2306:3) A panegyrick upon His Majesties glorious return from the wars, after the conclusion of a general peace. By Joseph Brown, Dr. of physick and the civil laws Browne, Joseph, fl. 1700-1721. [4], 15, [1] p. printed for A. Bosvile, at the Dyal over against St. Dunstans Church in Fleetstreet, and to be sold by E. Whitlock, near Stationers Hall, London : 1697. Reproduction of original in the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Williams -- III, -- King of England, 1650-1702 -- Early works to 1800. Grand Alliance, War of the, 1689-1697 -- Early works to 1800. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-08 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-02 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2008-02 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A PANEGYRICK UPON His MAJESTIES GLORIOUS RETURN FROM THE WARS , AFTER THE CONCLUSION OF A GENERAL PEACE . By Joseph Brown , Dr. of Physick and the Civil Laws . Salve igitur multum Regum Rex maxime , Salvus Ingredere optatam patriam , Salvusque revise Quae loca grata tibi felix terraque marique Aeternum tuos , & te diadema coronet . LONDON , Printed for A. Bosvile , at the Dyal over against St. Dunstans Church in Fleetstreet , and to be sold by E. Whitlock , near Stationers Hall , 1697. To his Grace HENRY Duke of NORFOLK , Earl Marshal of England , &c. VVHEN Poets write th' Immortal Worth of Kings , From what blost Source their Glorious Actions springs ; They may , with less Ambition justly claim , The Umbrage of some high-born Prince's Name : Such as great Norfolk ; boldly may assume , Next to his Sov raigns Right , as justly due to him . When Bosworth Field was once the glorious Scene , Where Norfolk's Blood did noble Hanours gain : When youthful Surrey did as bravely show , How far a true Heroick Soul dunst go : When Moubrey's Lyon for Example strove , To kill the Brutish Herd , to gain the Conq'rors Love : Which none deserv'd with greater worth we find , A noble Birth joyn'd with a gen'rous Mind . Honour is talk'd of much , but where 's the Name , So much of Honour from their Ancestors dare claim , Embalm'd with Glory , and Eternal Fame . What can the Noble Off-sppring be , but brave , That such Allyance from the Great and Noble have . And that first Pow'r is still the gen'rous Soul , That actuates and moves the mighty whole . And that high Genius does it self disperse , Through Howard's Intelectual Universe . The Muses I am sure will bless my Choice , When Norfolk's Name shall echo from my Voice . This mighty Theme cou'd come to none but you , Your Noble Station calling it your due ; Of Honours Laws made Judge and Patron too : Well may you then these humble Lines deserve . Cou'd they , Immortal as your Honour live . Cou'd such strong Torrents on my Numbers rowl , Great as your Worth , capacious as your Soul : Then might I boast no vain Poetick Fire , But such as Homer might himself admire , When Jove with Harmony did him inspire . And such the Gods might sure bestow on me , When I essay the high-born Norfolk's Pedegree : But more , when boldly I essay to sing Th' Imortal Triumphs of the greatest King. A PANEGYRICK TO THE KING . ASSIST , some Godlike Muse , assist my Song , Some Angel now with Nectar touch my Tongue ; Let my ambitious Lyre tune all her Strings , To Heavenly Numbers , soft Harmonious Things . Such a bold Theme employs my daring Muse , As none but such a rash artless Bard durst chuse . Since then the Pow'rful Charm does here begin , I feel , I rising feel , the God within . Arise , ye Ruins , now the Conqu'ror's come , With Peaceful Lawrels , to Britannia home . No more let Fame boast the Grand Lewis's Praise , 'T is William's Royal Temples wears the Bays : To which more justly , none e're yet aspir'd , By all ador'd , by all the World admir'd ; Since Peace , a happy glorious Peace he brings , Spreading it self on Fame's Eternal Wings ; A lasting Triumph to Britannia's Kings . What greater Conquest cou'd our Albion wish ? Than have her Monarch crown all Europe's Peace . What greater can to future Times be told ? Than that our William was the mighty Chief of Old ; That he more Brave , Heroick Trophies won , Than other Gen'rals , great in Arms , had known . More Crowns had truckled to his vast Success , Than other Monarchs durst attempt to wish . Such Glory to his Arms was freely giv'n , As he himself durst never ask from Heav'n : For Fortune to his great Designs must yield , And Fate obey his Conduct in the Field . Such prosp'rous , high Success , moves from afar , And comes not from the formal Pageantry of War : For if by chance such Glorious Actions move , We 're vainly fond to think there is a Jove . Arise , brave Brittons , now no longer mourn , Your Tragick Cypress to triumphant Lawrels turn . As new-born Souls arise , come gladly show How much to Caesar's mighty Toils you owe : Whilst Zephir's Balmy Blasts do gently chear The tender Plants of each indulging Year . Let Flora all her gawdy Nymphs adorn , More beauteous than the Rosie Blushes of the Morn . Ceres and Bacchus , on the desart Plain , Let them a far more fertile Conquest gain : And let Diana , once again be made Free of her wonted Solitary Shade . Romona , let the fruitful Gardens yield To thee the Luxury of all the Field . And let that too increase its usual Store , Which to our settled Peace may still add more , Than all the Happiness we knew before ; Whilst Pan , propitious of the Flocks , remains , A glorious Pattern to succeeding Swains . This Prodigy of Peace , we Britons boast , That so much Noble Blood has Europe cost . The want thereof , so much benums our grateful Sense , We yet enjoy not half its Influence . The Pleasure so surprisingly does seize , We feel the Dose too Strong at first , to ease . This wondrous Cure our great Apollo wrought ; But how 't was done , is past all Human Thought . Each feels th' Effect , but none the Cause can find , Or William's God , or God's to William kind . Either this Pow'r's himself , or to him giv'n As the choice Favourite of bount'ous Heaven : This Mighty Act describes Him so much more , Than all the high-fam'd Deeds he did before : Such a confused Chaos , did once appear , Our utmost hopes was but a doubtful War. When , loe ! despairing , pensive Albion sate , The Son of War reviv'd her sinking State , And gave her Life to hope a better Fate . That ev'ry Corner of the Land became Enrich'd with Triumphs of the Heroes name . For had Achilles , or Alcides liv'd , T' have seen the Scene of War so boldly now reviv'd . They 'd thought their Heroes here return'd again , Bravely to fight , not barely to be seen , That they were Deities , but Warlike Men. So like to Mars Heroic Nassau reigns , He out-rivals all his Virtues but his Vice refrains . Noble by Birth , by bold Experience , wise , Inur'd to hard , and toilsom Victories ; Bold even to a Fault , if such a Fault we blame , That gain'd our Peace , and his Immortal Fame . His well taught Passion rules his Warlike Rage , And a mild Clemency his Actions gage . So soft by Nature , to Compassion led , His Souldiers are no Tyrants , but to Mercy bred . So great in Arms , each to a Caesar's grown , And as well , Caesar-like , deserves a Crown , Bold Sons of War , and to that Honour born , Vertue 's their Aim , and Baseness what they scorn ; With Arms , like Atlas , they support a Crown , And they must fall , e're that can tumble down ; The noblest Title they desire to gain , Is their great Gen'ral's Honour to maintain : Under whose Conduct they may boast more Fame , Then ever Monarch yet , on his own Score durst claim . If Caesar knew the Peace his Pow'r doth give , Ev'n Caesar wou'd be proud under that Pow'r to live . To all that 's good , and Vertuous , so inclin'd , He Godlike shares the praise of every Mind ; Whilst Things inanimate do seem to move , In just Obedience , to express their Love. The batter'd Walls before his Souldiers fall , And to the neighbouring Rocks with Clamour call , Fall , fall , to Albion's Heroe Homage pay , For Stones and Rocks must Albion's Pow'r obey ; Fall yee Rebellious Towns before his Force , Lest your Proud Tow'rs do perish with a Curse : Lest your green Fields be dy'd with Purple Blood , Yield to his Arms , and own him all divinely good . Whilst lofty Mountains do their Tribute give , And fruitful Valleys rise to ask Reprieve , That they may yet descend again , and live . But Peace , Triumphant Nassau does prefer , Ignoble Peace , before destructive War. Tho' he a Noble , Glorious Peace might claim , 'T was all beneath the Godlike Hero's Fame : His Vertue was too strong , himself too brave T' usurp that Pow'r , which other States enslave . Earth is too base , too high Heav'n's glorious call , For Albion's Peace imports the Peace of all . Uniting France , he has enlarg'd his Throne , And made divided Europe all in one . Far from a common Pitch his Actions rise , Their just Designs enough convince the wise , And with Amazement dazle vulgar Eyes . Yet some bold Infidels deny that Light , Which like the glaring Sun betrays their Sight : So screeching Night-Owls o're the desarts fly , And hate the Lustre of the beamy Sky . Methinks I see the Times already here , Hasting their Motion thro' each circling Sphere ; These Days I see with Joy return again , Which will , Augustus's-like , be thought a glorious Reign . When Arthur's name must yield to Time , and Fate , And the fam'd Julian Period lose its Date : When in the more Victorious William's Name , Time shall begin anew , and all the Rites proclaim , Which gracefully inshrine the Heroe's Fame . When all the daring Conquests , glorious Fights , Perform'd by Edward , and his Garter Knights , Shall be , by great Nassau , excell'd as far , As Meteors are by the Idalian Star. Then shall they raise Portraicts of Massie Gold , Such as Men gave unto their Gods of old . Then shall they Fanes , and Sacred Altars call , By William , Henry , Nassau , or them all ; Then shall Men with Ambitious Pride desire , The Sacred Name of William to admire . This is the Hero , shall the Mystick Sybils say , For whom , ev'n Time oblig'd it self to stay . The long wish'd Heroe , by whose conqu'ring Reign , Britannia shou'd her ancient Pow'r regain . The Heroe , that of Mortals best deserves the Style , To govern great Britannia's glorious Isle . Too great 't is to relate all he hath done , Since he ascended that Successful Crown : How by Example , more than rigid Laws , He did support Britannia's Sacred Cause . How , while the neighbouring Worlds , toss'd by the Fates , So many Phaetons had in their restless States , Which into furious Flames turn'd their bright Thrones ; Our peaceful William quench'd their burning Zones . With Lute in hand , full of Coelestial Fire , To the Pierian Groves he did retire . Incircled there with all Urania's Flow'rs , In sweeter Lays than rais'd up Theban Tow'rs : He charm'd the fleeting Time , 'till from her Sphere , The fair Astraea kindly did appear . Then did the Sun its wonted Heat regain , And Light diffus'd it self o're all the Plain : The peaceful Brooks in silent Streams do glide , The Meadows stretch themselves , with wanton Pride Embroid'ring all their Banks ; whilst the proud Hills aspire , To crown their Heads with more Aetherial Fire . The feather'd Choir display their grateful Wings , And in soft Harmony glad Anthems sings : Each circling Flood to Thetis Tribute brings . The starry Senate looks serene and fair , And no disorder'd blasts disturb the Air. Pan without Care may keep his peaceful Flocks , Seas need no Dangers fear , but the deceitful Rocks . What Altars then to Nassau can we raise ? Or sing due Poeans to the Heroe's Praise ? But more , what can t' Iberia's Land compare ? Once the great Monarch's Toil , and now his constant Care , But the Event that crown'd that tedious War. The Glory that he won on that fam'd Field , Trophies engrav'd on his Immortal Shield . But what sums all , is this his last Success , That makes him Glorious , and all Europe bless , With the redoubled Echoes of a welcome Peace . Was these recorded by some Maro's Quill , Our very Foes the conqu'ring Charm wou'd feel , And own the Magick of the pointed Steel . How'midst his Troops the Heroe flew like Fire , His Martial Soul burning with hot Desire ; Which ev'ry Souldiers Breast did so inspire . With hugh Gigantick Strides he mov'd apace , Amazing all his Foes to see his warlike Grace . O're Torrent Streams , and the high Mountain's Top , Nor Ramparts cou'd his thund'ring Progress stop : Rending in pieces , with impetuous Shocks , The harden'd Flint , and the rebounding Rocks , Into ten thousand Atoms shiv'ring ev'ry part , Irreparable , ev'n by Vaughban's matchless Art. Whilst others , daring in the Feats of War , Do shew , how brave 't is to be bold , how base to fear . To serve their Pious Chief , they hazard all , And glory , if before him they can fall ; With such Ambition do their Souls aspire , To mount to Bliss , tho 't is by vulgar Fire . So Curtius once , a Noble Roman born , Whose Name Rome's Sacred Annals does adorn ; Himself for Liberty a Victim gave , And dy'd ignobly , that he Rome might save . With Glorious Pride he bore the scorching Flame , And suffer'd bravely , to raise Rome's sinking Fame . To serve a Pious Prince , then who 'd not chuse , Who wou'd not gladly Life or Empire lose ; Since 't is for Honour , and for Peace to strive , And thus to dye , is doubly blest to live ? Whilst other States for Monarchy contend , And boldly their Designs at Empire bend , Their vain Ambition finds a juster End. Since Peace the Universal World does crown , Who can but with excessive Pleasure own The Glory of our Heroe's Arms ? — Ev'n the wild Fame from Envy this just Praise imparts , William's the only Monarch of all Hearts , The only Victor is , sent from above , What others gain by Force , to win by Love. By softer Means he makes Mens Pride obey , And with unwilling readiness his Tribute pay . But let this curs'd Age frown , the next due Praise will give , And wish that William long as his Fame may live . ' Midst undistinguish'd Crowds of endless Praise , In Glory to out-live old Nestor's days . Whilst the glad Tritons of the watry Field , Shall give him what far distant Shores can yield . Whilst from the Northern Clime , and frigid Zone , The mighty Caesar of the World is come , Our greater Caesar's Glory to behold , Crown'd with Imperial Diadems of Gold. To both the Poles the Sun spreads forth his Praise , And turns their sable Nights to bright refulgent Days . Thus does great Nassau to dark Climates shine , Proving thy far fam'd Merits all Divine , Not gain'd by Chance , but by wise Conduct thine . As the wise King of Israel's Fame was spread , From Tago's Stream to Indus Sacred Head : So thro' the spacious extent of the Land , Victorious William shall his Troops command ; And barbarous Kings to his just Laws subject , Not to usurp their Pow'r , but to protect : Whilst they the Conduct of his Arms admire , His mild Revenge , and yet his warlike Fire ; Thoughtful of Glory , not of high Applause , And yet deserving both , the Merit of his Cause . Yet tir'd with Honour's Load , and Wars vast Toil , He thus expostulates upon the grateful Soil . As Man when first from Native Turf did rise , He all around him cast his wond'ring Eyes ; Absolute Monarch then himself might call , And , under his great Maker , Lord of all . The Royal Lyon willing Homage paid , And the huge Elephant Obeysance made : Ambition cou'd not find a thing to ask , And Pleasure had as difficult a Task ; His most luxurious Wish cou'd seek no more , When all fair Eden was his own before . He saw the Am'rous Palms out-stretching wide Their leafy Hands , to reach the distant Side : The Groves all whisper , and the Birds all sing , Murmur each Crystal Brook , and Silver Spring . No wind , but gentle Zephir's Spicy Breeze , Which into softer Motions fans the Waves , and Trees . An Universal Calm around him cast , He saw , which into Eden quickly past , This more than Mortal Bliss , too great to last . Hail then ye Sacred Sons of Levi , hail ! Let Peace and Union o're your Tribe prevail , And let seditious Zeal from hence be driv'n , As most pernicious to the Peace of Heav'n . No more let Plots the awful Robe profane , Or Stains of Blood condemn their Souls for gain ; Nor let ambitious Greatness prompt the wise , To wilful Sacrilegious Perjuries . Whilst Ignorance , the common Cause of Strife , Acts the Seditious Bigot to the Life . You Noble Senators , that Laws dispense , With utmost Justice , not with Violence ; Depress this Monster Envy that does rise , Argos-like , with a Thousand killing Eyes . Hells spiteful Engins ! like huge Winds that roar , Deaf'ning the glad Pilot , when in sight of Shore , He joyfully proclaims the Danger o're . So look the Heav'ns when no Star appears , But slow and weary , shroud them in their Sphears . O , bright Augusta ! let thy Streets be fill'd , With all the Triumphs that united Joy can yield ; Let the wild Populace aloud proclaim Their extasie of Joy , in William's Fame ; Mov'd by a sense of Gratitude , let them confess Their due Obedience , and their Happiness ; Needing no more the dire avenging Sword , But humbly yield to Mercy 's milder Rod. O , happier Thames ! let thy proud Flouds arise , To meet the watry , and impending Skies : Advance thy Surges thro' Nassovia's Court , With Pompous Pride , in soft luxurious sport . Whilst the kind Banks the forward Noise proclaims , And sounds the Echo thro the Neighb'ring Plains : From a far distant Shore , the busie Nymph imparts This blissful Welcome to our grateful Hearts . That William , O! th' Heroick , God-like Man , Victorious William is return'd again . Eas'd from laborious War , a servile Toil He undertook , to make Britanni ' a peaceful Isle , O Nassau ! let me blush for the ungrateful Soil . Soon as these Tidings from the Main was brought , Th' Ambitious Stream convey'd her joyful Thought , To all the nimble Floods , adjoyning nigh , She told her Tale , she told her melting Joy : Thames first the soft diffusive Pleasure took , Which she convey'd to Isis , and fair Charwell's Brook , Where all the Muses round about her flock ; Each Bard attending to her pow'rful Tale , Each Bard has Charms , but none o're hers prevail . The tickling Pleasure like Inchantments spread , And with fresh Flow'rs adorn'd each uncloath'd Mead. But why shou'd Isis only make thee shine , Is not thy Thames , more than thy Isis thine ? Tho' Isis may in softer Songs adore , Let it suffice , thy Thames doth love thee more . Tho' Isis , for her Beauty may compare with Seyne ; For Swans , and Flood-Nymphs with Imperial Rhine : Yet in the Title both may claim in thee , Nor Isis , nor the World shall equal me . When in her Am'rous Arms Thames does thee fold , And dries thy Martial Hairs , with hers of Gold : Whilst floating Skiffs ambitious are to ride , Upon the undisturbed Stream , and Peaceful Tide . As Bees , after a stormy Show'r is past , Return unto their Flow'rs with eager haste ; The busie Insect doubles her Desire , To gain the End which Nature does require , And all Mankind with Wonder so admire . FINIS .